My mum had been on my back about eating more, and since I was still living in their house, she had direct proof to see if I was following through.

As I went to jump out of the car, my intuition urged me to take in my surroundings. Slightly hidden behind a concrete beam was Everly, eight months pregnant, with a good-looking man sporting a military uniform. I’d never seen him before.

She appeared angry, seething even as she continued to berate him. Unfortunately, they were speaking low enough that their voices didn’t carry.

He seemed to take it, though, his features etched in a forlorn expression.

I didn’t get the feeling that she required any type of protection. Instead, I felt like an interloper. Something about the exchange seemed intimate.

Then, old memories began to stir and click into place—highlighted snapshots of passing comments or errant mentions of gossip, mainly from Alexis.

Everly had been in a turbulent relationship with a military man for years.

When that revelation hit, so did reality as Everly’s water’s broke… four weeks early.

Chapter 12

OWEN

I rushed over to Everly, ignoring all my reservations in favour of getting her safely to the hospital. The military man staggered backwards as I guided Everly to my car. Once she was situated inside, he managed to splutter that he’d meet us there.

“Why would he come to the hospital? Who is he?” I asked. Not gently either.

Everly viciously glared my way before a sudden contraction had her overtaken. Between panting breaths, she managed to spit, “Not the time, Owen.”

How fucking convenient. I knew I sounded bitter, and that it was the worst moment to question her, but something sinister was going on.

Before I could rattle her with questions, we arrived at the hospital. Biting my tongue, I sourced a wheelchair and raced her to the maternity ward.

With the impending birth, I had managed to get my head straight. The baby’s safety was paramount, as well as the mother’s. That definitely was not the time for me to have a conniption over a possible misunderstanding.

When we rolled into the birth suite, Everly was calling out in pain, body tensing from the onslaught of childbirth.

Worry and concern consumed me as I thought of how selfish I was. That moment wasn’t about me.

As the midwives congregated around Everly, they threw out a multitude of questions, one specifically asking how far along she was.

“I’m full term. Forty weeks,” Everly managed to grit through her teeth.

For the second time in my twenty-seven years—my world imploded.

I slumped back in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs in the waiting area—unfortunately, not alone. Across from me sat the military guy, posture rigid, face blank. He wouldn’t even look at me.